Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love. " "No doubt," he replied. " "Do not delay," cried Thames. Her aunt went off at a tangent. " "You cannot help yourself, Sir Rowland," replied Jonathan, contemptuously.
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